


Stress Eating

by ArtHistory



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Stuffing, Vampire Sex, Vampires, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-25 03:01:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14967689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtHistory/pseuds/ArtHistory
Summary: Does it still count as stress eating when you're a vampire?When it comes to one's waistline - Yes. Yes it does.





	Stress Eating

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aris_Silverfin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aris_Silverfin/gifts).



> My best friend Aris_Silverfin didn't have the best day, so this is a gift for her!

Angry, heavy footfalls.

“Come now! You cannot simply lay there! You must do something!”

Lestat roared. A deep, guttural sound. One that echoed months of frustration with his immortal companion. 

“Is this not what you desired?! New Orleans! A filthy, stinking, fetid cesspool where we scourge out a living in this tiny apartment!”

Louis heard the male vampire dramatically knock over one of seven antique vases Lestat himself had insisted they purchase. Louis let out a soft snort of laughter as it shatter on the floor, his eyes staying closed.

“OH! So this is funny to you?!”

More rough, weighted steps. Warmth. Loud, angry pants. Lestat was leaning over him, even with his eyes closed, Louis could feel the man’s hot breath a hair from his face. He’d fed tonight. Again. Lestat had started doing that as soon as they had arrived in New Orleans. He’d go out the moment the sun set, drinking in the life of the city. Two, three, sometimes four grown men falling to his hunger before he returned to their shared flat.

“Louis” He’d purred, almost seductively, his stomach bulging out before him, sloshingly full. The flesh beneath his bloodstained shirt taut, bloated to the point it would bloom out onto the terrace just a moment before Lestat’s handsome face would emerge from the shadow of their shared flat. Louis wondered if Lestat knew this - most likely not, given the man’s absolute lack of any self-awareness - and Louis was surprised to admit the sight of that overfed middle gave his dead heart just as much of a *THUMP* as Lestat’s sharp jawline, his aquiline nose, his piercing eyes.

“Louis” He’d purred again, wiping cherry-red lips clean of gore, kneeling where Louis was slumped in his chair, vaguely listening to the soft music from the cafe below,

“Louis, there is an opera tonight.” He’d say

Or “Louis, the gallery has a new exhibition,” or “Louis, a new restaurant has opened,” always ending with “The human’s will be out in scores! Pleased and plump on wine and cheer, they are ours for the taking!”

Louis would never respond, simply shake his head no, almost revelling in his melancholia, only feeding on the occasional pigeon that mistook his lifeless, unmoving corpse for a statue.

At this, Lestat would launch into a frenzy. Cursing, snarling, then finally stomping his way out of their flat. He wouldn’t return until just before dawn, stumbling back into their home, locking the door and collapsing against it. He would pant, groan. The sound of it always echoed in the small room. The soft gasp of Lestat getting his breath back, the deep, aching groans he would push out, his footfalls erratic, unsteady. Louis had only ever dared once to crack open his coffin and try to see what was causing his companion such dramatics. 

The image he saw was forever burned into his mind.

Lestat’s mouth, his chin, his throat were red with blood, his Adam’s apple still bobbing, as if forcing more phantom mouthfuls down as his tongue darted about, trying to clean (or perhaps gather more of) the residue that scattered his perfect lips. Lestat’s shirt had been unbuttoned - no - torn, his slim, ivory chest catching droplets of scarlet, the vampire’s nipple pink. Erect.

Louis felt himself flush, his body both recoiling and lighting up at what he saw next.

Lestat’s *gut*

That was the only way to describe it. The whip-thin, lithe, almost ethereal monster had clearly *gorged*. Glutted and gulped no less than a dozen souls. Lestat’s belly jutted before him almost comically far, as if he’d swallowed a barrel of ale. His navel, stretched flat, was pink, flushed with the pressure of being tugged from all angles, the vampire’s hollow stomach swollen into a mountain of hard, tight flesh. Louis had taken himself immediately in hard, watching Lestat struggle to lumber to his coffin, forced to waddle ungracefully, barely muffling a whimper as he bent to tug open it. He came as Lestat fell backwards into it, imagining that heft, that weight atop himself, coming again immediately at the sight of the vampire’s gut bulging up, over the rim of his coffin before the flesh of it was tamped down.

Now so much time later, as Louis dared to open his eyes into that clearly furious face, his mouth fell open.

“You’ve gotten fat.”

The words lingered in the hot, damp air of their New Orleans flat, the sound of buzzing mosquitoes like cannons in the deafening silence.

Lestat’s mouth had fallen open in kind, and he had immediately jolted away, landing somewhere across the room, looking as scandalized as Louis had ever seen him. 

“I...what?!” He said, color rising in what Louis could see were much, much fuller cheeks.

“Fat.” Louis said, his voice low. He rose like a panther would, his feet silent as he crossed the distance towards his sudden prey, “You’ve put on weight, Lestat.”

Lestat’s ruby lips opened and closed, as if the pointed barbs he so usually slung at Louis were all battling their way out of him, bottlenecked in his throat.

And what a throat it was.

Softened and thick, generously bequeathing an extra chin to the vampire’s once razor sharp jawline. Said jawline was thickened in kind, rounded, giving that evil creature’s face an almost cherubic quality.

Lestat swallowed, finding some composure.

“I...I am merely...full, Louis.” He said, waving a (plump, Louis’ dark eyes could see) hand in the air before him.

Lestat smiled, showing teeth, “I fed on no less than thirteen humans tonight, Louis. How does that sound? Does your bleeding heart mourn for-” Lestat’s mouth slammed shut. His cheeks reddened.

Smiling during his (ignored) tirade had revealed a dazzling pair of dimples in his plump cheeks. Said cheeks, red and round as apples, were squished between Louis’ thumb and forefinger. Lestat looked even more scandalized than just a moment ago, especially as he realized that - though Louis was a step away, he could feel his middle *squish* into Louis’ tight, toned-

“G-Get away from me!” Lestat cried out, turning abruptly and-

There was a pop. Followed by two soft *pings*

Louis grinned.

Lestat couldn’t stop himself from letting out a pleased sigh, only to look down in horror as to why he’d suddenly felt such relief.

The vampire’s creamy, white gut had burst the button off his dark trousers, the ensuing flood of ivory lard into the open space defeating not one, but two of the lowest button on his previously tucked-in shirt.

“I...I’m-”

“Fat.” Louis breathed, his voice suddenly dark, deep. His strong hands darted out, gripping, kneading the vampire’s doughy middle, his free hand reaching, searching for and then finding a fat, bulging love handle.

“You’re fat, Lestat. All your gluttony is finally catching up to you” Louis growled, slotting himself behind the man, stifling a groan into Lestat’s padded shoulder as he felt his clothed cock slot between the round, bloated cheeks of Lestat’s fat ass.

Lestat was panting, blushing, stammering as his pants tented before him, laying his hands over Louis’, squashing them further into his blubbery, mountainous middle.

“I-It is all your fault!” He whined, arching his back, rolling, bucking his hips as he felt the vampire’s cock press into him, “You should have come with me! Stop me! Stop me from turning myself into…” Lestat trailed off, gripping Louis’ hands as he gave his gut a jiggle.

It was Louis’ turn to moan, to cry out as he began to rutt into Lestat’s fattened ass. One hand moved to grip at the man’s hip, groaning as it sunk in deep, the other flying to Lestat’s chest, moaning as he found not hard pecs, but soft, perky breasts.

“Had I known you would turn into this. Would flourish into such a work of art I would-” Louis growled, turing them both towards the wall, Lestat immediately steadying himself against it, spreading his legs as Louis continued to rutt, the hand on his hip finding and palming his tented trousers, Lestat crying out Louis’ name.   


“Gods! Y-Yes! Louis! I’m still hungry! I want more! More! M-” Lestat came with a cry, his nonexistent abs desperately contracting, sucking in his bloated form for a half-second before relaxing, expanding with such force that the next two lowest buttons gave way, more and more Lestat spilling outward, blorping over Louis’ pale hand.   


“You will have more, Lestat! You greedy, gluttonous thing! All you can hold, all I can cram into y-” Louis came with a silent cry, his handsome face twisting, mouth turning to a round, desperate “O”.

Both vampires panted, Louis daring to cover the back of Lestat’s neck, his shoulders with more kisses than the two had shared in all their years together. His hands continued to roamed, explore, fondle the sea of warm lard before, Lestat only purring before-   


*GROOOOWWWWL*   


Louis and Lestat’s mouths fell open. 

Lestat’s in dark glee.   


Louis’ in horror.

Lestat spun round, his plump hands locking onto Louis’ clothed, hollow middle.

“Was that-”   


“That was not-”

Louis’ stomach growled again, louder and longer than before.   
Lestat looked from it to Louis’ blushing face.

“Louis,” He purred, “there is an opera tonight…”


End file.
